As it turns out I booked two nights in Miyajima which is off the coast of Hiroshima. And if we were going off the coast of Hiroshima then it was only right to visit the Hiroshima Peace Museum.
We'd been in Japan for two weeks and were on the last leg of our journey. This is to say that we were tired (and we ate the plums you were saving in the icebox -- sorry, my mind is a twirly place that sometimes wanders. And you're welcome).
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| My people on the train |
Anyway we took a bullet train from Osaka to Hiroshima. The only available train on which we could get five seats left Osaka at 8:00 am. This meant getting up, packing our luggage, and catching a subway at a very early hour. An hour well liked by vampires but not so much by teenagers. We arrived in Hiroshima around 10:00 am. However we could not check into our hotel until 4:00 pm. So we stored our bags at the station (about six American dollars per piece) and caught the train to the Atomic Bomb Dome.
I say train. It's really more of a trolley. Like you'd see in San Francisco. At this point we were relying on Google Maps powered by our portable wifi and I had promised my people there would be minimal walking (we didn't know it at the time but my son had developed a femoral hernia so he had an excuse for his grousing. The rest of them not so much. Also, how and why a strapping 22-year-old man/boy got a hernia that is typically associated with old women I do not know. He claims it's my drill sergeant ways. Honestly I doubt it - after all I'm an old(ish) woman. And no hernias here. In addition the boy had injured himself before our trip but he'd thought the injury had healed. Then again, my daughter's toe nail did fall off when in Rome).
But. Back to our story. Google Maps had typically been helpful, especially with train and subway schedules, but in this case it steered us wrong. Google asked us to get off the trolley several stops before the dome. It then proceeded to march us to the YMCA.
As you can imagine my people were quite unhappy. Go home Google. You're drunk. I ended up dropping a pin in the Memorial Peace Park so Google could walk us there - a mile up the road.
Fortunately there was a nice new building with an eatery across from the park. We made the wise decision to dine before our visit. The sitting was appreciated and the food surprisingly good. We had fish with the delectable homemade chips.
And then it was time. We crossed the street and fell into the shadow of the The Atomic Bomb Dome. It is a skeleton of a building that rests along the river. And it is hauntingly beautiful. Truth-be-told I could have stayed there all day and watched the clouds pass over the open rooftops. This building was located incredibly close to the epicenter of the bomb. And yet. There it stands as a reminder of the things we humans do; out of spite and anger and misunderstanding.
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| The Atomic Bomb Dome |
And here I begin to struggle. Because this was a bad war. So very bad. And, at least from my perspective, Japan was on the wrong side. And our bombing? It ended the war.
But. The Japanese. The citizens of Hiroshima had as much control over their leaders as we do ours. If the man in today's White House started WWIII I could yell. I could scream. I could write. I could photograph. I could knit a battalion of bright pink hats. But I could not stop what was to come. And neither could the Japanese.
From the Atomic Dome we wandered through an idyllic park. Littered with the yellows, oranges, and rusts of fall. Boats placidly traveled the water. Such a pretty place. So hard to imagine the destruction that occurred a mere 73 years ago. In my parents' lifetime.
The museum had lockers. We gratefully deposited our backpacks and smaller bags that we'd brought with us. Admission was nominal 200 yen or, about, $2.00 per person. The main museum was undergoing renovation but the exhibits were open in a side building.
We walked up the stairs and were met with a photograph. A wall-sized photograph of Hiroshima before the bombing. A thriving city scape. People in traditional dress. A place I would be excited to visit.
And then we walked into the next room. Another photograph. Covering the entire wall. Of Hiroshima after the bombing. The devastation. The destruction. Then we turned. And watched, as if from above, the path of the bomb. And, again, the annihilation. Some 90,000 to 146,000 lives were lost. Let that soak in. My entire town. And then some. Wiped from the face of the Earth.
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| Hiroshima After the Bombing |
And here's the thing. Those who died immediately. Those incinerated. Vaporized. They were the lucky ones. Because the next display showed the aftermath. The blood torn dresses. The stopped watches. The three year old boy's tricycle that he was buried with -- because, when the bomb hit, he'd been out doing what he loved most. Riding his bike. We killed children. We maimed them. We caused unfathomable suffering; with the initial blast and for years to come.
I tried like mad not to do it in public. But there was no stopping it. I sat down with head in my hands. And I cried.
This war happened before I was born, but I felt responsible. As American's we are taught that we were the heroes. We ended WWII. But at what price? We did not take an eye for an eye. We took an entire population. Innocent people paid a horrific price. And I simply cannot understand why. I do not understand: why Hitler became who he did, how Japan got involved or why they bombed Pearl Harbor. I do understand our need to end this war. But, again, at what price?
Needless to say we were quiet on our way back to the station. On our way to collect our luggage and continue our trip. My children were not in school that week, when we visited the museum, but they learned an awful lot.
"Peace is our gift to each other." ~Elie Wiesel
XO.
